Hrafn's breath fogged the airlock's inner pane as he palmed the release. The seal broke with a hiss of equalizing pressure, flooding his nostrils with antiseptic sharpness that burned away the hab pod's familiar stench of sweat and recycled sulfur.

  Three steps inside, the floorplates warmed unnaturally beneath his boots—a calculated comfort that made his callouses itch. The recruitment office was bright, sterile, and cold in a way the mines never were. The desk at the center of the room glowed like freshly smelted titanium, its surface pristine and unmarred by the grime of Gamma 4.

  Behind it sat a recruiter, a petite Nivren, her rodent-like frame neatly perched on a chair that swiveled as she turned toward him. Her fur was pale and sleek, catching the blue glow of the holographic screen in front of her. Her rounded ears twitched at his approach, and her long, pink tail curled neatly around the base of her chair.

  "Ah," she said, her voice smooth and practiced, her whiskers quivering with mock enthusiasm as she skimmed the glowing ledger in front of her. Her sharp incisors glinted as she smiled—a smile that didn’t quite reach her dark, beady eyes. "The Caderyn account. Let’s discuss how many limbs we’ll need to balance these books."

  Hrafn froze mid-step, his ears flattening instinctively and his tail giving a faint, involuntary flick—a subtle betrayal of the nerves coiling in his stomach. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if he’d misheard. He glanced back at the airlock, half-expecting someone to leap out and tell him this was all some elaborate prank.

  "That’s meant to be a joke, right?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly. "I didn’t just walk into a meat shop, did I?"

  The Nivren recruiter’s tail flicked lazily against her chair as she tapped at her screen with clawed fingers. Her movements were quick, efficient, and deliberate, like everything she did was timed down to the second. She didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence stretch just long enough for Hrafn’s unease to deepen.

  He swallowed hard, his mind racing. Arin would’ve had something clever to say right now, he thought bitterly. Something to make her laugh, or at least make me feel less like I’m about to be dissected.

  Finally, the recruiter chuckled softly, her whiskers twitching with calculated amusement."Relax, kid," she said, her tone almost dismissive. "I’m not in the business of cutting off limbs. I just like to… weed out the delicate ones early. Consider it a stress test, and you’re already doing better than most."

  Hrafn exhaled, his shoulders easing slightly, though his tail still flicked with residual nerves. He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or wary—something about her calculated calm put him on edge.

  The recruiter leaned forward, steepling her fingers under her chin, and her tone softened into something almost soothing."The truth is, we’re here to help you pay off your debt, not harm you," she continued smoothly, her incisors flashing as her smile widened. "With your skills and our training, you’ll be debt-free in no time. And who knows, you might even find a new family among your fellow recruits."

  Her words were reassuring, but Hrafn couldn’t help noticing the way her clawed fingers tapped absently at the desk, the sound rhythmic and deliberate, like she was keeping time with his heartbeat.

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  The recruiter’s smile shifted again, now businesslike as she reached for a holographic stylus, its glow reflecting in her sharp, glassy eyes."Standard conscription package includes mandatory organ liability insurance," she continued, gesturing to a spinning hologram of a humanoid figure. Pulsing red labels highlighted sections like Limb: 2.8 years debt relief. Cornea: 0.6. Spinal column: 7.9.

  Hrafn’s tail twitched—not a simple flick, but a tight, instinctive curl, a reaction buried somewhere deep in his Varagni instincts. Unease curled in his chest as the hologram rotated. But before he could respond, the recruiter leaned back again, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone."Between you and me, I know my sense of humor can be…a bit much," she said with a wink, her whiskers twitching as though to punctuate the statement. "But after doing this job for so many years, I’ve learned that if a little dark humor sends someone running, they’re not cut out for military life anyway."

  Hrafn hesitated, his fingers brushing the titanium desk as he reached for the glowing stylus. His damp fingerprints streaked the surface, a stark contrast to its sterile perfection."You’ll be proud of me, Mom," he thought, gripping the stylus tighter as he brought it to the screen.

  The recruiter’s sharp incisors glinted as she countersigned the holographic contract, her clawed fingers moving with calibrated precision. Hrafn could hear the soft hum of her retinal implants adjusting focus, their faint whine almost mechanical in its rhythm. He swore her glassy eyes sparkled with something resembling excitement.

  "Standard liability waiver," she said, rotating a clause about spinal monitor augments to the bottom of the stack with a flick of her wrist. Her thumbprint glowed green as it stamped the document, sealing the deal.

  Hrafn’s breath hitched as a message appeared on the holo-screen above the desk, the numbers pulsing in soft, golden light: Debt Counter Adjustment: -0.4 Credits. Across the station, Kaida’s projections flickered and died mid-calculation.

  Back at the hab pod, Arin’s joke about drill sergeants caught in his throat when the family debt ticker stuttered, its relentless climb interrupted for the first time in years.

  The recruiter noticed Hrafn’s reaction and leaned forward, her long, pink tail coiling tighter around the base of her chair, a movement too controlled to be anything but deliberate. Her sharp incisors flashed again, her tone dipping into something almost conspiratorial."You’ve made the right choice," she said, her whiskers twitching with satisfaction. "The weight’s off your family’s shoulders now. I’ll admit, recruits like you are rare—ones who stay after the humor gets a little dark."

  Hrafn hesitated, his fur rising in reaction, not just to the recruiter’s words but to the weight of the sterile air closing in around him. But her calculated warmth and the rhythmic tapping of her clawed fingers against the desk kept him anchored in the moment.

  "I’ll try my best," he murmured finally, his green eyes meeting hers as the holo-screen dissolved into shimmering light.

  The recruiter leaned back again, her sleek fur catching the glow of the room’s sterilized light panels as she tapped at her slate, calling up the next phase of his enlistment process."You’ll do fine," she said, her voice confident and smooth. "Welcome to your future, Caderyn. Don’t waste it."

  Hrafn rose from the chair, the glow of the recruitment sigil painting his fur in shifting hues of red as he stepped out into the corridor. Despite the chill biting at his fur, his resolve remained steady as he walked away from the office, his weight shifting instinctively, his steps measured as if the station itself could feel the weight of his choice.

  The sterile air felt heavier now, laden with the weight of what he’d just done.

  The debt counter adjustment was a promise—a lifeline—and no matter how daunting the road ahead seemed, he knew it was a step worth taking.